


Ἀτλαντὶς νῆσος

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1910s, Alternate Universe - Atlantis: The Lost Empire Fusion, Multi, gratuitous greek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-02 03:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10208753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: 11 970 years ago, the island-empire Atlantis sunk beneath the waves in a single day and night of misfortune.And now, Matt Holt is going to find it, but he might be surprised at what he finds…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's an Atlantis AU. I'm supposed to be writing my concept review. Who here is shocked _not fucking me_

Matt sighed as he unlocked his apartment. It was perfect for a young man with a small inheritance. It was less perfect for a young man with a baby sister to take care of on a small inheritance.

Katie wasn’t exactly a baby—at fifteen, she was more than old enough to work—but Matt had been entrusted with her care. As long as he could keep a roof over her head and food on the table on his inheritance and the pay from the museum, she wouldn’t have to work. Matt had seen the conditions in the factories. If he could keep Katie out of them, it was worth every long hour.

Mother and Father had asked him to look out for her, fifteen years ago. He was going to keep that promise.

The light wouldn’t turn on. That was strange, the bill wasn’t due for another week. Maybe the storm had damaged something.

“Matthew Descartes Holt, I presume.” The voice was slightly rough, but polished. In the dim light, he could see a silhouette rise from the overstuffed armchair.

Where was Katie? Who was this and how did they get into the apartment?

“That’s my name.” He glared, although he doubted they could see it in the dark. “Who are you?”

“My name is Haggar. I’m acting on behalf of my employer, who has a most intriguing offer for you. Are you interested?”

“Your  _ employer _ ? What’s going on here? Where’s my sister?”

“My employer is a man named Iverson. You may have heard of him. As for what is going on, well.” Her teeth glinted as she smiled. “Why don’t you come find out?”

Iverson. He had heard of him, mostly by reputation. “And my sister?”

“Has already agreed to meet with him. Are you coming, Mister Holt?”

Matt glared at her back as she brushed past him.

* * *

 

Katie was in the car waiting for him. Somehow, she had managed to escape the downpour that soaked Matt to his bones.

“Took you long enough,” she said. “So? How’d your proposal go?”

“It didn’t.”

“What?”

“They rescheduled it on me. Got a note at four that said it was moved to three-thirty, and then ‘due to your absence…’” He could feel his ears burning with shame at the memory.

“Again? But—your research—”

“They wouldn’t even hear it.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I  _ know _ you are.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, dragging his hand down his face. “You’re the best, really.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The car rolled through a steel gate. Thunder crashed around them. Lighting flickered behind a grim, rectangular building. It looked more like a box than anything else.

Haggar led them through the front door and the foyer. The whole thing was very spartan, and put Matt in mind of a prison or a hospital. There was no personality anywhere in the house: no portraits of a family, or even of himself. No knick-knacks on the shelves.

Katie clutched at his hand as they entered the study.

The study was the only place with even a hint of a personality to it: a large portrait of Iverson standing next to…

“Mom and Dad?” Matt whispered.

“Your parents were some of the finest minds I ever knew. Shame, what happened to them.”

General Iverson was an imposing man, with a face like a cliffside and one eye covered with a simple black eyepatch.

“You knew our parents?” Katie said.

“We were good friends. They spoke of you two often.”

“Did they really,” Matt said, on edge. “Funny, they never mentioned you.” This wasn’t the first time someone had claimed to be ‘an old friend’ of his parents. Most of them had wanted something. None of them had actually known them. The portrait was a new one, though.

“Look on that table over there, if you don’t believe me.”

A package wrapped in brown paper sat innocently on the low table. Written in a familiar hand across the wrapping was “To Matt and Katie, with love from Mother and Father.”

“It’s…from our parents.”

“Your mother brought that package to me years ago,” Iverson said. “She asked me to give it to you when you were ready.”

Matt unwrapped it, folding the paper neatly and putting it in his pocket. A small book stared up at him. A spiral marked the front cover. From the binding style, it was well over three thousand years old: a scroll that had been rebound into a book. The cover was remarkably well-preserved: thick and leathery, and completely dried. Of course, it would have been submerged in hot, dry sand for over a thousand years, the sand would have preserved it like a natural mummy.

“It’s the Shepherd’s Journal,” he said in disbelief, opening it. It was written in a variant of Attic Greek—honestly, he had been expecting something untranslatable. This seemed almost too easy.

“That’s it?” Katie said, looking over his elbow. “No offense, but I was expecting something a little fancier for the book with the location of Atlantis in it.”

“Atlantis.” Iverson chuckled. “You must think I was born yesterday.”

“It’s all here,” Matt said, not really paying attention to him. “Instructions, clues, everything. Katie, look at this.”

She squinted at it. “Matt, you know I’m terrible with Greek.”

“But not with machines. Look at this—doesn’t it look like a schematic?”

“Ooooh, you’re right. But I’m not sure what it would do, exactly. I’d have to build one.”

“Or we could  _ find _ one.”

“How very convenient that your parents found this mysterious book tailored to your interests,” Iverson drawled with something approaching sarcasm.

“What are you saying?”

“It’s probably a fake, son.”

“With all due respect, General Iverson,” Matt said, “I would know if this were a fake. I would stake my life on it: this is the genuine article. This is the Shepherd’s Journal.”

“So what do you want to do with it?” Iverson crossed the room and sat at a large table.

“I—” He glanced around as though he would find a clue in the tall bookshelves. “I’ll get funding. The museum—”

“They’ll never believe you.”

“I’ll  _ make _ them believe! I have the Journal, I can convince them!”

“Like you did today?”

Matt winced at the memory. How had Iverson heard about that, anyway?

“I’ll rent a rowboat if I have to!”

Iverson smiled. It was slightly unnerving; he seemed to look right through Matt. “That’s just what I wanted to hear. But forget the rowboat.” He pressed a button on the table, and a model of an advanced submersible rose from the wood. “We’ll be traveling in style.”

Katie made a tiny noise. She looked like she was having a religious experience just staring at the model.

“It’s all been arranged,” Iverson said.

“Why?” Matt asked.

“For years your parents bent my ear about Atlantis and that old book. Eventually I made a bet with them: If they actually found the thing, I would finance the expedition.” He sighed, looking up at the portrait of the three of them. “They may have passed away, but Mitchell Iverson is a man who keeps his word.”

Matt was struck suddenly by how old and tired he looked. The firelight deepened the shadows on his face, and he looked remarkably like a mountain brought to life.

“Your parents were great people. Maybe you don’t even realize how great. Those buffoons at the Institute dragged them down, made a laughingstock of them. If I could bring back one shred of proof, that would be enough for me.” He chuckled. “Well, what are we standing around for? We’ve got work to do.”

Matt goggled. “What? To do something like this, you’d need a crew: engineers, geologists—”

“The best of the best, and they’re already hired. Leandro Carlos Herrero Acosta y Fuentes Diaz de Varadero. Friends call him Lance. He’s a munitions expert. Keith Kogane. I broke him out of an Italian prison, he’s our pilot. Hunk Ta, engineering and an excellent chef. Coran Hieronymus Wimbledon Smythe, medical officer…among other things. Most of them were on the expedition to get the Journal to begin with. All we need now is someone who can read it.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Wait, are you talking about  _ me _ ?” Matt said.

“You see anyone else in this room who can read that thing?”

“Katie could, she just doesn’t like Greek.”

“Smart girl. So, are you in?”

“I’ll have to quit my job.”

“Done. You resigned this afternoon.”

“I did?”

“I don’t like to leave loose ends.”

“The apartment, I’ll have to give notice.”

“Already done.”

“I’d have to pack—”

“Handled.”

“Katie?”

“Going with you.”

“Hell yeah!”

“Language,” Matt chastised on reflex.

“Your father had a saying. If you’re too worried about what could go wrong, you—”

“Might miss the chance to do something great,” Matt finished. “You’re not the only person who remembers them, you know.”

* * *

 

The submarine launched with a rush of bubbles. The mechanisms in the engine were fascinating; all the gears clicking and moving in perfectly oiled harmony. Whoever had designed this was a genius.

Katie’s fingers itched to take it apart.

A hand closed around the back of her shirt and lifted her up into the air.

“What’s a little pigeon like you doing in the engine room?”

She spun midair and found herself eye-to-eye with a heavyset Samoan man wearing a pair of coveralls.

“Looking around. And I’m not a pigeon.”

“Nah,” someone said above them, “You’re just a Pidge.”

“Lance, if you blow up my engine again, I’m cutting off your tortilla supply.”

“No fear, big guy.” A figure scrambled down a ladder to the catwalk and sauntered toward them. “I would never risk such a thing. So, Pidge, what brings you to the bottom of the sea?”

“I’m supposedly ‘assistant translator,’ but my Greek is terrible, so I’m pretty useless at that. Really the only reason I’m here is because my older brother is. This engine is fascinating, though.”

“You like her? She’s my baby. I’m Hunk, by the way, that’s Lance.”

“I’m Katie. So, did you build this engine? I’ve never seen a design like it before.”

“Well, what other engine can power a submersible for long enough to get to the bottom of the ocean and back again?”

“None, that I know of.”

“None that I know of either. Which is why I built this.” He gestured to the engine room around them. “She’s run on diesel, top of the line parts—well, when you have a man like Iverson financing it, everything’s top of the line—here, let me show you around.”

“Well, that sounds very interesting,” Lance said, “You two do that, I’m just going to go wander off and neither of you are paying any attention, are you?”

“So, how are you solving the issue of air supply? We’re going deeper than anyone else ever has, after all, we can’t just surface to get more air.”

“A fish breathes through its gills and collects oxygen from the water, right? Well, here are our gills.” He gestured to two massive tanks of water. “That’s ocean water. See that bit down there? The vent can open to the ocean and refill the tanks, and then closes again. Meanwhile, there’s a direct current flowing through to get us oxygen and hydrogen.”

“Electrolysis, in other words, but on a massive scale.”

“We’re gonna be friends, I can tell.”

* * *

 

“Mister Holt, I presume?”

Matt was starting to get really tired of people recognizing him.

“Who’s asking?”

“I’m Captain Zarkon. I was on the team to retrieve the Journal, with your parents.” He offered a hand for Matt to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m sure.” Something about him gave Matt the creeps. Probably the way his smile never reached his eyes.

“I see you have the Journal. Nice pictures, but I prefer a good adventure, myself.”

“Well, if all goes well, this expedition will be the adventure of a lifetime.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure this will be  _ enriching _ for all of us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this all feels super awkward and stiff but fuck it

Shiro brushed Allura’s hair out of the way and placed a kiss on the nape of her neck, slipping out of bed. He put on his arm, rolling the wrist a few times while it clicked into place, and pulled on his uniform. He paused for a moment to check that he looked presentable, and went back into the main room. Allura was still asleep, the thin sheets shifting with every rise and fall of her chest.

He ducked through the sheer curtains to the balcony. The morning lights were still dark, only the dim red night lights illuminated the courtyard below. Water trickled in fountains, reflecting the lamps hanging above. The trees stood tall, branches laden heavily with fruit.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, and Allura rested her chin on his shoulder.

“Did I wake you?” he said.

“Only a little. Come back to bed.”

“I can’t.” He lifted one of her arms, kissing her wrist and the fluttering pulse point. “Captain of the Guard, remember?”

“Yes, you’re doing a wonderful job patrolling from our balcony.”

He laughed. “I don’t have to patrol  _ just _ yet.”

Allura hummed a fragment of a familiar melody: their first dance together, when Shiro was newly-made captain and easily flustered and the Princess had asked him to dance.

He turned in her embrace so they were facing each other, and took her hands in his. Allura kept humming, and he turned her in a slow circle around the balcony. His hands dropped to her hips and he dipped her.

Allura pulled his face in close and kissed him.

“Princess,” he said softly. “You should go to bed. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You had better,” she said. “It’s lonely without you, the bed’s too big for one.”

* * *

 

Allura dozed for a few hours, drifting between restless sleep and being awake but exhausted. Shiro slipped into the room after a while—night patrols lasted for three hours, she knew.

He laid beside her, already out of the uniform. She liked the way the uniform looked on him. She liked how the uniform kept them apart much less.

“Your feet are cold,” she murmured.

“Sorry.”

She rolled over to face him. He threaded his hands in her hair and kissed her.

“Why does it feel like I never see you anymore?” she whispered. “We’re married. We shouldn’t only see each other at night.” It felt a little like it had a few years ago, when they were first in love and had to sneak around and dodge people because being caught together would ruin them both. There were a few times when it had been fun and rebellious, full of the thrill of taking risks. Mostly, though, it had been awful and stressful and lonely.

“You know, princess, I have tomorrow off. We could wander around the city, maybe take a trip over to Balmera.”

She hummed in thought. “We should go in disguise, so we don’t get swarmed.” Shiro cut a dashing figure in the silver and black uniform, but he looked good in nearly anything, and the deep purple sash of the Palatine guard was too distinctive to avoid gossip. “Aren’t you glad you married the princess?”

“I’m glad I married  _ you _ ,” he said, eyes soft, and Allura melted a little bit.

* * *

 

If Matt spent any longer staring at this section, he was going to scream.

“Well?” Zarkon prompted. “What does it say?”

“I don’t  _ know _ ,” he grit out. “There are a couple of things this passage could mean. We could be about to go through a series of tunnels, or get swallowed by a giant, or have to fight a very angry horse, or there are dangerous underwater rapids, or absolutely nothing is going to happen, or something else entirely!  _ I. Don’t. Know _ .”

“I thought you were supposed to be an expert at Greek.”

“Would you like to switch jobs? I can stand around and give orders, and you can try to translate a text written in a language that hasn’t been spoken in thousands of years.”

“Sir, you might want to come see this,” one of the sailors said. A large spotlight shone on the ocean floor, revealing a large crevasse in a rock in front of them.

“Well, Mister Holt, you said something about a series of tunnels?”

“I. Yes, I guess that  _ might _ match the description here—”

“Take us in, seaman.”

“Yessir. Setting course to one-six-three degrees.”

“Φΰλαξ,” Matt muttered. “I suppose this counts.”

The ship jarred suddenly. Alarm lights flashed and a horn blared, somewhere.

“What just happened?” Zarkon roared.

“I don’t know, sir! There was nothing there!”

“I want exterior lights, now!”

The lights came up, revealing something like a squid and an eel had a child. An enormous eye stared at them.

“Fire torpedoes!”

“Wait!” Matt shouted, frantically flipping through the book for some kind of clue. “We might be able to evade it. This is the gatekeeper; it’s looking for threats. All we have to do is convince it that we aren’t a threat.”

Zarkon looked skeptical.

“Also, I’m not sure that our torpedoes will be able to even scratch it. This thing is enormous.”

“Well, Kogane? Can we get past this thing?”

Kogane looked abruptly nervous. “It’ll be tight, but she can make it.”

* * *

 

The morning lamp was at full brightness when Shiro woke up. Allura was still asleep, her brown skin glowing in the light streaming in through the balcony curtains.

He put his hand on her bare shoulder, shaking it gently. She grumbled and clutched the pillow tighter.

“Allura,” he said softly, kissing the tip of her ear. “Time to wake up, love.”

“Flmbl.”

“Yes, really.”

Allura opened one bleary eye. “You’re chipper.”

“I’m always chipper. I have a beautiful wife whom I love, and we’re going to Balmera together, because we haven’t had a chance to just have fun in a while.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She is, only she won’t get out of bed.”

Allura stretched. “Well, you should join this beautiful wife of yours in bed and have some fun there.”

Shiro ran his hand along one of her thighs, under her nightdress. “Or maybe she should get out of bed so we can eat breakfast and go on a date together.”

“I’ll eat you for breakfast, how does that sound?” She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a long kiss. “Alright, I’m awake, let’s go.”

She rolled out of bed and crossed the room.

“Don’t tell me you’re going in your pajamas,” she called over her shoulder.

“What? Oh. No, I’m not. Obviously.” Kisses from Allura sometimes made his brain turn off.

He put on his arm and pulled on a simple dark tunic, pants, and a jacket. Allura emerged a moment later, wearing a long dress edged with embroidered flowers and a thin green scarf loosely draped over her distinctive white hair.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Stunning.”

“You know what I mean. Do I look like an average woman going on a date with her husband?”

“There is nothing average about you.”

“Shiro! I appreciate the compliments but I’m asking you seriously. If we go out there, are we going to get swarmed?”

Shiro laughed. “We’ll be fine. Nobody will suspect a thing.”

* * *

 

Allura gasped for breath. “Have we lost them?”

Shiro leaned against a tree, panting. “I think so.”

“Princess Allura,” someone popped out of a bush, holding a pad of paper. “Would you say—”

“Why do they never ask  _ you _ , dear?” Allura asked Shiro. “Princess Allura this, Princess Allura that, why do they never ask you for a comment?”

“—you and your husband—” the reporter continued, trying to appear steadfast despite beginning to falter.

“I think it’s because nobody can ever remember if they should call me Captain Shirogane or Prince Consort Takashi.”

“—would you care to comment?” The reporter tried.

Allura cleared her throat. “My husband and I are  _ trying _ to have a quiet day out with each other. Now leave us in peace.” She fixed him with the same stern look that she used on the dogs when they were disobeying.

The reporter squeaked and vanished back into the shrubbery.

“Where were we, dear?”

He put his arm around her waist. “I think we were about to take a lovely stroll together, away from nosy reporters looking for gossip.”

“What an excellent idea.” She leaned into his chest and glared over her shoulder at the shrubbery. “Nobody goes near the border,” she whispered.

He grinned.

* * *

 

The submersible was still trailing bits of ink when they noticed something glowing up ahead.

“Holt,” Zarkon growled, “That had better not be another gatekeeper.”

“I don’t think so,” Matt flipped through the pages again. “It doesn’t mention any other ones, but I really don’t know. Honestly, I don’t even know how this got so much information on what happened after Atlantis was submerged—I mean I don’t think that gatekeeper really was that useful when it was above the surface, but who knows—and really, the whole point of Atlantis is that it’s been lost, nobody has been able to find it, that’s why it’s the mythical lost continent, although from these descriptions it’s not really a continent, it’s only about the size of Britain which I suppose is still pretty big but—”

“Holt.”

“Yes?”

“Focus. What should we be expecting?”

“Oh! Um. As far as I can tell? We should be coming up on Atlantis now. There’s something in here about a mark, but I’m not really sure what that’s about.”

“A mark,” Zarkon repeated.

“The gatekeeper leaves his mark and then we’ll be able to enter. I’m not totally sure what that means. It’s not really a specific book, half of this is riddle and metaphor.”

“Kogane, take us in slowly.”

“Got it.”

“Haggar, get the rest of the specialists up here.”

“Of course.”

“Holt, keep translating.”

“There’s nothing more  _ to _ translate. Everything after this is just descriptions of Atlantis.”

Zarkon hrumphed.

Haggar returned with the rest of the team a minute later. They seemed oddly young to Matt; most of them were younger than he was, and barely older than Katie, with the exception of a tall redhead with a magnificent mustache.

“I’m sure you can all introduce yourselves so we won’t waste time with that,” Zarkon said. “Mister Holt here says we should be nearly at Atlantis, so we need to be ready to get to work.”

* * *

The blue glow grew brighter and brighter as they approached. It was blindingly bright, and seemed to fill the sea.

“What  _ is _ that?” Lance asked, squinting.

“I’m not sure.” Matt flipped through the book again, trying to find something about a blue glow. “It might be this, the ψυχή Άτλαντισ—uh, you might think of it as the heart of Atlantis, their power source. It’s described in the Journal as having a strong blue glow.”

“Well, this is certainly interesting. We should bring it up to the surface,” Zarkon said. “For study, of course,” he added after a moment.

The ship shuddered and lurched. The blue glow surrounded them.

“What is going on here?” Zarkon demanded.

“I don’t know, sir, we didn’t do anything,” a sailor said. “It’s like we’re being sucked in.”

“ _ Sucked in? _ ”

“I can’t explain it, sir!”

“Holt,” he snarled.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t know!”

“You’re supposed to be the expert translator on this mission, and you  _ don’t know what’s going on? _ ”

“Hey!” Katie shouted. “He got you this far, didn’t he? And I didn’t see anyone else making suggestions!”

“Don’t talk back to me, girl!” Zarkon roared.

“Guys,” Keith said. “And Pidge. This psοο-whatever thing isn’t solid. Look. Whatever it is, we’re passing  _ through _ it.”

Matt stared out the window, adjusting his glasses as though the shift would change what he was seeing. “Amazing.”

“Ah, a semi-permeable membrane!” Coran said, twirling his mustache. “Brings back memories, that does!”

“So if we’re passing through this thing,” Lance said slowly, “What’s on the other side?”

As if on cue, the ship lurched and fell.

* * *

 

Matt came to with a searing pain in his leg. What had happened? One minute he had been on the submersible, falling, and the next he was…here.

Where even was here?

None of the others were in sight. He was in the middle of a bunch of boulders, and there was a throbbing pain in his leg. It didn’t look broken, but it wouldn’t move except stiffly and painfully.

He flopped back, limp. He wouldn’t be able to get very far on his leg, and even if he could, there was no guarantee that he would be able to find the others.

He had the book, at least. That was something.

“I heard something,” someone said. He didn’t recognize the voice, and there was a strange quality to the sound, not quite an echo—more like they were saying two words at once, one louder and clearer than the other.

“It’s probably just an animal."

“It sounded human, though. They could be hurt, we need to help them.”

The voices were getting closer. They didn’t sound like unpleasant people, but there shouldn’t be people here. It had been eleven thousand years, according to Plato’s report, since Atlantis disappeared entirely. Everyone on the island should have drowned.

Matt had so many questions.

One of the speakers appeared in view; a tall, broad-shouldered man with a tuft of white hair and a metal arm. Matt pressed himself back against the stone.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said, holding his hands out in front of him placatingly. “I just want to help.”

The other speaker appeared then, a woman with a cloud of white hair and dark skin. Was white hair an Atlantean trait?

“Shiro, what are you—oh.” Her eyes fell on Matt. “Hello.”

“Hey,” he managed.

“Um. Stay right there, we’re going to help.”

Matt wasn’t going anywhere, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Where are you hurt?” Shiro asked.

“My—my leg. I don’t think it’s broken, though.”

“Left or right?”

“Left. What—what are you doing?”

Shiro pulled out a glowing crystal necklace from his tunic. “I’m going to heal you,” he said slowly, giving Matt a concerned look.

He gripped the crystal tightly until his hand took on the same glow as the crystal and pressed it to Matt’s leg.

The pain vanished.

“How did you—”

“Where are you from,” the woman interrupted.

“Allura!”

“Shiro, he doesn’t have a crystal and didn’t know what you were doing.  _ Obviously _ something’s wrong here.”

“I’m from the surface,” Matt said.

“The  _ what? _ ” they said in near unison.

“The surface. Outside of Atlantis.”

“There is nothing outside of Atlantis except for darkness and saltwater,” Allura said.

“Not exactly. You have to travel for miles, but there’s an entire world above you. I was part of a team that was trying to find you.”

Shiro and Allura glanced at each other for a while.

“There is an old legend,” Shiro said slowly, “That there were once other lands, besides Atlantis. But a great flood came, and wiped them all out, and only Atlantis has survived beneath the water. But that’s just a myth.”

“That’s what we thought about you! But then we found this book, the Shepherd’s Journal, that’s all about how to find Atlantis.”

“And you went looking,” Allura said. “What’s your name?”

“Matt—Matthew Holt, but everyone just calls me Matt.”

“I’m Shiro, and this is my wife, Allura.” Shiro stood up and offered a hand to Matt. “You should probably come with us.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ synesthete-matt-holt


End file.
